“Thanks, General, very interesting. Now, Mr. Cogster?”
Cogster cleared his throat and uncrossed his legs. “General Sverdlov seems to have the situation analyzed. Although we haven’t answered the one question we should have asked at first. What happens if we just do nothing? Why do we feel we have to solve every international squabble in the world? What’s Greater Manchuria to us? What is Japan to us?”
“Alex, what do you think of Steve’s playing, I assume, devil’s advocate?”
Alex Addison, Chief of Staff, lifted an eyebrow and rubbed his nose. “Well, I think the answer’s obvious, Madam President. If we do nothing we announce to the world that we’re the Great Britain of the twenty-first century, a former world power, no longer a player. Greater Manchuria is a good friend to have because of its location and resources, its counterbalance to Russia and the Chinas. And Japan is a problem to us. If we let them get away with this, that is a slippery slope. Japan then would have a blank check to use their illegal military any damned way they want. And then finally, our popularity figures will literally go negative. The public wants action. If we want to be here in two years to finish your good work, we’d better give Admirals Pacino and Wadsworth some orders.”
“Steve?” Warner asked expectantly.
Cogster looked at the shine of his shoes. “I have to say that I don’t think the Navy is adequately represented here. We have a junior flag officer who commands submarines, and I mean no disrespect, Admiral Pacino, we’ve all heard about how brave you are, your Navy Cross and all those other medals, but you do have a sub man’s point of view. Your worries about Japan’s subs are a case in point. Maybe they’re no big deal. I don’t know, but I’d like to hear what Admiral Wadsworth has to say about this.”
“Okay, Steve,” Warner said. “But what about Admiral Donchez, who was chief of naval operations just two years ago?”
Cogster smiled tentatively at Donchez.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking at Warner for the first time. “That was then. Two years ago. This is now. Wadsworth is the officer responsible for the Navy. I say let’s get his input.”
The Blowtorch speaks, Pacino thought, while trying to keep his face impassive.
“Well, Steve, you do have a point, but we need to put a plan in action now. Can we raise Admiral Wadsworth on the videolink?” Warner waved over a staffer who took four other staffers and began scurrying in and out of the room while the occupants shared an uncomfortable silence. Pacino turned on his Writepad computer and began scribbling on the one-page display. With his finger he drew a line vertically down the center of the page and on the left wrote “Blockade” and on the right “Delay.” The notes below each were his ideas for orders to the combined submarine force for each decision. By the time the videolink was ready with Wadsworth, Pacino felt he had the embryo of a plan.
Wadsworth wore whites, in contrast to Pacino’s dress blues, since Wadsworth was in tropical Africa. Warner briefed Wadsworth on the situation as if he hadn’t heard, then informed him of the recommendations of the men in the room, eventually outlining Pacino’s ideas. Wadsworth’s face tightened at the last.
Finally Warner asked the admiral his opinion.
“It’s difficult for me to believe Admiral Pacino would want to attack Japan without provocation. That is a dangerous recommendation. He apparently feels that our carrier battle groups are no match for the Japanese submarine force, and, Madam President, that is just his parochial submariner attitude. The Japanese forces’ reputations are overblown. They have high technology, and the bugs that go with it. Their planes have low reliability and their submarines don’t always work. Let’s not make this decision based on guesses. I recommend we use the diplomatic solution, and we should keep the USS Reagan force Japan-bound, and I do want the Abe Lincoln and United States sent to sea toward the northwest Pacific, but no threats, no talk of blockade. Let’s let diplomacy work.”
“Thank you. Admiral,” Warner said, beginning to look weary. “Steve?”
“Ma’am, it’s up to us to do the right thing. Admiral Wadsworth’s sober and responsible recommendation is the right thing.”
“Admiral Pacino?”
“Yes, ma’am?” Wadsworth was having his revenge, and at what cost?
“Do you agree with Admiral Wadsworth?”
This was it, he thought. Either he bought into what he believed was a flawed plan and watched it fail, or he publicly disagreed with Wadsworth and was quietly relieved and retired from the Navy ten days from now when Wadsworth came back and built up a case against him. Which would be easy — he had, after all, lost two ships in five years, albeit in combat, but nevertheless, it was a dual black mark. Pacino looked at Wadsworth’s puffy face on the video screen and decided he didn’t want to be part of a Navy with a Wadsworth in charge.
He had had a wonderful career, and every career had to end. In the military, that came about by death, disability, resignation or retirement. And retirement could be voluntary or forced. Perhaps resignation held more dignity, particularly when the politics of flag rank became too much. He thought about his waterfront house over the Severn River, facing the Naval Academy, about his dreary office at the base in Norfolk, about the fact that for the rest of his career he would probably just command one office after another, never again giving rudder orders aboard a nuclear submarine. That duty was reserved for younger officers. So what was left for him? No longer eligible for submarine command, the rest of his career would be a series of meetings like this one.
With that thought, Pacino made his decision.
“Madam President, not only do I completely disagree with Admiral Wadsworth, I’m willing to put my reasons why in a memo to you. Admiral Wadsworth, I’ll be sure and have a copy on your desk for when you return from Africa. If we do as Admiral Wadsworth suggests, the Japanese submarine fleet will put to sea as soon as they see our carrier battle groups coming, which they will if we aren’t going to knock out their surveillance satellites. When the battle groups are finally in position, the Japanese sub force will put our surface ships on the bottom the minute we say the word ’blockade.’ If we want this operation to work, we have to sortie the fleet, hit the Galaxy satellites, attack the sub bases and air force bases, and blow away their planes and ships — and all within a six-hour interval — and tighten the rope around Tokyo’s neck. If we fail to commit to that level, Admiral Wadsworth’s surface sailors will be drinking seawater. And I suggest history will remember the men in this room — and in our videolink — as cowards and failures.”
There was a shocked silence in the room. Wadsworth heard Pacino on a two-second delay. As the words registered a storm came over his face.
Pacino no longer cared, and ignored the video display and the recording camera. Donchez’s face was a study in mixed emotions. Pacino didn’t care about that either. He began packing his notes in his briefcase.
“Admiral Pacino,” President Warner said, her tone neutral, “I think perhaps it would be best if you got yourself back to your office. The rest of us need to talk to Admiral Wadsworth. Thank you for your time. And your outspoken and candid opinion.”
Pacino stood and nodded to Donchez, then followed one of Warner’s staffers out of the Oval Office. He doubted he’d ever see the inside of it again.
BOOK TWO
CHAPTER 11